


In Your Sweet Little Bungalow

by annodominique



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom!Cas, Canon Compliant, Caring Dean, Come play, Dead Sammy, Depressed Dean, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic destiel, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Human Castiel, Jealous Dean, M/M, Not AU, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Smut, Top! Dean, really hot sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annodominique/pseuds/annodominique
Summary: All things considered, Castiel has a house. All things considered, Castiel has a life. Without Dean.It has been seven years since Sam died, seven years since Dean left Castiel, broken and human, and disconnected from humanity. Cas had to cope on his own somewhere along the way. He chose a little town of Oregon to settle in.Seven years, and Dean shows up at his door on a chilly February night, saying the stupidest set of words to ever be said to Castiel's face."I was--just passing by the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop by...to see you."And Cas doesn't know what to do.





	1. Chapter 1

All things considered, Castiel has a house. A quaint little place on top of a hill in a little Oregon town. It is small and unremarkable, a sleepy nest shrouded by trees, its pathways shadowed by flowering shrubs, and its wide open windows peering into the hillside to the neighboring town in the north and into the Pacific coastline in the east.

All things considered, Castiel has a job. There's a lumber shop by the edge of town not far from Castiel's hill where he walks to everyday to attend eight hours of work as a retail associate.

He has grown quite used to his job and his life. The routine and the quiet, and the small town vibe has seeped into the system in which he operates. There was a certain familiarity in his everyday life that somehow has managed to stamp out the bigger role he played in the grand scheme of things in the past. Now, he is just Castiel. Not an angel. Not a hero. Not a saviour. Not out of this world.

All things considered, Castiel has a life. He has made a life for himself.

It has been seven years since Sam Winchester died.

\---

They buried Sam on a gloomy, rainy February afternoon. If he tries, he can still see it in his mind, like it was just yesterday. There was a low-lying fog on the ground. The tips of the bare, leafless trees swaying in the rain.

Dean had stood on the foot of Sam's grave, where Sam's body laid in a wooden casket that Dean made from scraps of wood. The grave was still open, and Dean had looked down one last time at his brother's remains, before he started filling back the hole with dirt. Cas had stood aside, watching. He dared not to help Dean do the task of filling his brother's grave, he dared not to even step closer. In that moment, he was an outsider. He was not welcome in Dean's space, he was not welcome to witness Dean bury his brother, he was not welcome to be at his friend's burial. It was just Sam and Dean. If he could not bring Sam back to life, he was not welcome.

It had hurt so much, Cas remembers. The first amplified wave of emotions to hit him after being human, is grief. And it had hurt so much.

Sam was killed by Amara. It was in an abandoned churchyard in Minnesota. Sam had made a pact with Lucifer, who was then using Cas as a vessel. Sam—brave, righteous Sam, had offered himself to be used as Lucifer's vessel instead, if he would kill Amara, and leave Castiel's body.

"I am darkness, I am infinity. I am not a creature, or a being." Amara had purred while circling Lucifer. Cas who had withdrawn deep inside his vessel's being felt Lucifer's confidence wavering, a chord of unease being strummed in the surface. Cas remembers thinking, How? How does she manage to taint the glass surface of Lucifer's unmarred elegance and power?

"You dare stand in my presence, threaten to kill me? Do you not know how laughable that sounds to me, Fallen One? Archangel? Hiding in the underbelly of the universe? Because you could never find favor in your Father's eyes? Because He could never love you like He loves the undeserving, puny creature that is Man."

Castiel had looked at Amara through Lucifer's perception, and Cas remembers feeling insubstantial under her gaze. He was just Castiel, and yet he had done this. He, a mere ex-seraph of Heaven, had manage to put Lucifer, son of the morning, the brightest star of Heaven to have fallen, to come face to face with Darkness, the beginning of nothing and everything—before God, before Life, before Death, in a fight to the death. All so that Cas could save, not humanity, not the world, not angelkind, not the universe. But one man.

As he looked outside, Castiel had raged inside Lucifer when he saw that in that same churchyard stands Sam Winchester with them. What was Sam doing there? He was crouched down on the ground, his clothing mud-splattered, clutching an open wound in his gut.

"Tell me Fallen One, you stand in my presence, unarmed, defenseless. I could pluck you into nothingness. What is your motive? What weapon do you have?"

She looked at Lucifer like the way Lucifer looked at Cas when he thought how an odd duck he was, mingling with humans, riding a vehicle.

"My motive, dear auntie, is love. L-O-V-E." Castiel had felt Lucifer's reserve strengthen. “You hold yourself in the pinnacle of existence—or non-existence, whatever, I don't want to get into details, but— " Lucifer sighs dramatically, "I hate to tell you, that you're just a means to an end."

Amara looks at him derisively.

"Let's just put it this way, I need Sam Winchester as a vessel. And in order to do that, I'm gonna have to obliterate you." He smiled at her snidely.

Cas had felt betrayed, looking through Lucifer's perception, Amara had looked confused, but even then she had looked intrigued and challenged.

In the far recesses of his mind, Castiel had begun to rage and scream and thrash.

"Lucifer!!!!" He was in the bunker in his mind, and he was destroying everything he saw to get Lucifer's attention. "You son of a bitch!"

And then he was suddenly in a cage. And Lucifer was there, reaching inside the cage, his hand choking Cas into silence.

"Hush, Castiel." He had looked at Lucifer with a blinding fury. "I am not gonna be able to hold up my end of our agreement if you don't hush, and calm down in here." Lucifer had loosen his choke hold.

"Sam was not a part of our agreement."

"Correct. But he was a part of ours. Mine and his. His and mine."

"What are you saying?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little mind, little Castiel. I'm gonna kill our bitch of an aunt, you'll see. The Mark of Cain will finally cease to exist, and your boyfriend will be free."

"What about Sam?! What pact did you have with him?"

"Ah. See, Castiel. He is my true vessel. He agreed to be my meatsuit if, and only if. I kill Amara, thus fulfilling my end of the bargain with you, and secondly, if I leave you and your vessel alone."

Castiel had felt betrayed and helpless then.

"See it all works for me, Castiel. It's perfect...." He had looked at Castiel with glassy eyes, his loose clutch on Castiel's collar tightening in increments.

"There's just one more thing I need..."

He felt Lucifer's nails digging at the flesh on his neck. He had passed out after a while, the last thing he saw through heavy-lidded eyes before blackness, was the bright blue-white glow of his grace streaking out of his neck, and into Lucifer's mouth.

Castiel had woken up graceless, still in the cage in his mind. He reached out to look out into Lucifer's perception. And through it, he saw that Dean had come. Dean was there. He was holding Sam in his arms, trying to get him to stand up. In his mind, Cas was chanting, "Leave! Run!"

"What weapon do I have, you ask?" Lucifer had sputtered. "The most powerful weapon to ever exist. More powerful than even your darkness."

Amara had looked at him perplexed, and all of sudden, troubled.

It was then that Lucifer, balled up Castiel's grace, and shouted,

"Sam, now!!!"

Sam had pushed Dean away, too far away. He had gotten up, produced the First Blade in his hand, and launched it straight to Amara's gut. Amara had reached out her hand and struck a movement at Sam's direction. Out of her wound, a flash of darkness shone, ray by ray. And Lucifer flew to her, lightning-fast, on wings of blade and fire, and lodged the ball of grace inside of her.

A blinding blue light equivalent to a nuclear explosion had suspended everything in a sharp metallic silence and light. It had lasted for an eternity, it seemed. But when it subsided, everything was quiet. The first sound to be heard afterwards was a soft breeze and the rustling of trees. And then the chirping of birds. And then everything was just as it had been.

In the aftermath, Castiel had moved his fingers, felt the mud on his back, and the wind on his skin. He opened his eyes, and saw the blue of the sky, as well as the rain clouds forming up above. He was back. Lucifer had gone.

Sam!

He looked to where Sam was. Dean was holding him in his arms again, shaking his seemingly lifeless body, shouting at him to wake up.

Lucifer had not occupied Sam's body as a vessel. He did not have a chance before Sam had died. Castiel could never decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Two weeks later, they had buried Sam. Before that, Dean had tried summoning every demon in their books, to make a pact to resurrect Sam. No demon could undo Amara's handiwork. He tried summoning Lucifer, he was nowhere. Angels, they were proud and unwilling. And Cas, Castiel could not do anything to help his friends. He was useless. Dean hadn't talked to him, hadn't even spared him a glance when Cas had explained everything that happened in the churchyard. Dean had just buried himself in his books and alcohol, as Sam's corpse had lain for two weeks in one of the bunker rooms.

It had been seven years since Sam Winchester died.

\- - -

"Heya, Cas."

All the time he's imagined this scene to play out doesn't come close to now, when Cas is really there, right in front of him. His throat is suddenly dry, he opens his mouth, he doesn't know what to say. Even if he does, he's not sure if a sound would come out.

And he's just there—Castiel. Cas. Gripping the doorjamb with strained force and white knuckles; his eyes, blank and stricken and somehow a darker shade of blue against the fading light outside his door, looking at Dean right in the face like he's seen a ghost.

How did he go through seven years without Cas looking back at him, how did he go through that without his friend Cas at his side? Because. How?

"I— " he says stupidly and pauses because he fucking does not know what to say next.

"I was—just passing by the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop by.... to see you."

"I—I know it's been hell of a long time. Fuck, I'm sorry. This is not going as I've planned it to. I should have called first, I should have."

Cas gapes at him, his eyes somewhat blank but skittering through Dean's face like he couldn't believe that after all this time, Dean Winchester shows up at his doorstep sputtering the most nonsense set of words he could ever say to his face.

But Cas looks well. Glowing, and clear-eyed, his expressions seem more sure, more confident. His hair is a rich brown, a shade lighter than when Dean had last seen him. Everything about Castiel is different, he seems to hold himself differently. He seems more alive, more preoccupied, more human. There's only so much he can weave out from seeing Castiel face to face again. He's been prepping himself for months for this moment. And now that it's here, all Dean could think of is that all that preparation was not enough. He needs a rewind. He should probably run back to his car, just pretend it never happened. He should go away, leave Cas the fuck alone. Because after all that time, Cas must never want to do anything with him ever again anyway. And Dean doesn't know what to do next or what to say next. And Cas, Cas. His friend Castiel, is just standing there, finally in front of him.

“Hello, Dean."

\- - -

They sit under the lamplight hanging low by the kitchen table. For a long time, they say no words, just sit there, testing the air, casting slow and unsteady glances at each other.

“You didn't even call.” Cas says, finally.

“I know. I was messed up, Cas.”

“I am not sure what you want me to say now, Dean. It's just...I don't know. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to see you again."

“That's good.” Cas nods, but doesn't look at him. "That you know what you want from this, what you expect from this. Because I don't.”

“I don't either.” Dean doesn't dare steal a glance at Cas even though he wants to. He looks down at his hands tucked under the kitchen table instead. “God, I've been practically stalking you for a month, man. I don't know how to do this. It's just been...too long.”

Castiel scoffs, a little bitterly, and Dean finally glances up at him. And suddenly all Dean can think of is how entirely human that gesture was, and how it looked alien in Cas's features.

“I waited in the bunker for two years. You don't have any idea what I went through.” There was no break in Castiel's voice, like he was simply stating a cold hard fact.

“I'm sorry.”

“No, Dean. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you lost Sam. I'm sorry that I was a part of the reason. But—he was my friend too.”

“I know.”

“I'm sorry that you couldn't forgive me for a long time.”

_No. You didn't do anything wrong. No, don't fucking say sorry._ Dean wants to say, he wants to say a lot of things, but he can't because he's just that fucking emotionally stunted.

“I had to stay away, Cas."

_ Because if I stayed I would have tried to blame you, the way I blamed myself. And you don't deserve that. _

But Cas says nothing, his face a mask.

_I'm here now. Please don't send me away._

“Stay...for supper?”

“Yes.”

\- - -

Dean did not think it would be this difficult, finally talking to Cas, having to look at him. Cas being in the same space as he is. Seeing Cas move around in his own house, in his own kitchen where he looks so comfortable in, and yet still so out of place. He can't help but notice little things about Cas now, like how his hands look like as he washes them by the counter sink; how his brows furrow in concentration as he stirs the pot on the stove.

“Do you mind if I stay here for the night?” How easily the words formed in his mind, falls from his lips, when he's crouching down inside in humiliation, waiting for Cas to kick him out, like he has every right to.

Cas finally looks up at him, looks like he's about to choke on something.

“No. Of course I don't mind, Dean. I will have to fix a bed for you.”

“Nah man, no need. I'll sleep on your couch. If that's okay.”

“There's a spare room, Dean. I just need to fix the bed.”

It's final the way Cas says it. Dean doesn't dare disagree anymore.

They finish up with supper. Dean offers to wash the dishes. Cas refuses.

“Cas, it's not a big deal. Get away from the fucking sink, man.” Dean does not think, but it's just like before when he used to be so comfortable ordering Cas around like a friend would deliberately try to do so, as if he's got every right.

Cas's back muscles stiffen against his shirt.  _Shit._

“Sorry, Cas. Just, let me do the fucking dishes. You cooked.”

Cas turns to look at him, his expression unreadable. He wipes his hands on a dish towel, moves away from the sink, and stands by the counter awkwardly. Dean takes that as his cue and moves to the kitchen sink, starts rinsing the dishes.  _Don't fuck up washing the goddamn dishes, Winchester, like you fuck everything else up._

“You have a nice house.” Dean aims for light conversation, just to hide how high-strung and fucking nervous he is that Cas might realize he's not goddamned worth it, and kick him out of his house, out of his life, forever.

“How did you find me?” Cas asks so silently, like there's a storm brewing underneath.

“Novak. Castiel Novak. National Registry. Took me forever, but.. it's a good thing you decided to get registered.”

“Some people helped me start out.”

“Well, you are doing a fantastic job, Cas.”

“You don't know that.”

Dean turns off the tap, really looks at Cas for the first time that night.

“I know you.” He couldn't take the words back.

Cas finally looks back.

“I'm different now. People change, Dean.”

“I know." He sets his eyes on his friend, unwavering. "But you're still Cas to me."

“I'll go and clear the guest room.”

\- - -

He has to go to work. He's late now but he still has to go to work. He just looks at Dean's sleeping form on the bed in the guest room. The sun has risen now, and rays of sunlight filters in through the windows, and to the white sheets draped on Dean's middle.

Should he leave a note for Dean? Should he call in sick? Maybe he should quit his job altogether?

No. He has a life. Without Dean. And that life should not come into a full halt just because Dean Winchester decides to show up all of a sudden, out of nowhere, disturbing his peace. So that he can leave again. Cas's heart breaks all over again at that thought.

He decides to leave a note. And breakfast. Towels. Shirts. Slippers. And his phone number.

It seems like he has a million things to say to Dean, and nothing at the same time.

\- - -

He tells himself when the clock strikes three that he is not hurrying to go back home. He reminds himself that if the circumstance was different, if Dean hadn't come back into his life from out of the blue, he wouldn't be in a desperate hurry to go back home. Cas reminds himself that there is a real possibility that Dean has gone when he arrives home. Cas conditions his mind and heart that he's hurt already, and that he cannot possibly hurt more than he already is when he comes home to find Dean gone again. Cas tells himself that everything is okay, that it _should_ be okay.

He takes his time. He drives slowly, and goes ahead to the local grocery store, putting his mind on anything besides Dean in his kitchen, under the low table light, with his somber eyes and one word conversations.

Cas idly goes from aisle to aisle, takes his time choosing the best brand of milk, reads the nutritional facts on the corn cereal box. Going through the motions, as a person would rather pay attention to small, petty details than to acknowledge the important emotions brewing just underneath the surface. He dreads the time he has to take the short drive home.

But he does drive home eventually. He reaches his hill and tells himself: If you don't see the black shiny car parked in the driveway, just stay calm. Take the groceries inside the house, and go about your day like you normally would. It's fine, Cas. You're going to be fine.

He steadies his heart, calms his mind even as he sees the Impala parked where it was this morning. No sigh of relief. Just a straight face—even breathing. He takes out the grocery bags from his truck, and walks inside the house.

He finds Dean inside the guest room, asleep and sprawled on the right side of the bed, stomach down, his breath deep and even, mouth slightly open. He hasn't changed his clothes—boxers and a blue Henley.

Cas finds one plate in the dishwasher. So at least Dean had gotten up to eat. Cas goes back to the guest room, stands by the door, peeking at Dean's sleeping form. The light outside is very bright and the windows are large and open, there's an afternoon draft coming in, and the tree branches outside are casting afternoon shadows on the sheets. It looks very idyllic, but Cas wonders how Dean can sleep through the day, when it was late afternoon. Cas wonders what Dean did all day. The house is untouched, the kitchen is the only place that looked like Dean stayed in aside from the bedroom.

So Cas just stands there watching Dean. His mind wanders through a million things, what happened to Dean? Where has he been? What has he been doing all these years? Is he okay?

An hour and Cas decides he should start making dinner. Fried chicken and baked potatoes and mushroom soup. Dean strides in the kitchen at six. There is still light outside, and the big kitchen windows framed the orange sky outside perfectly.

“Hey Cas.” Dean looks rumpled; hair tousled, and five o'clock shadow making him appear unkempt.

“Hello Dean”

“What time did you get back?”

“Three-thirty.”

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

“You looked so peaceful.”

“Yeah, sorry I was tired.” Dean rubs the sleep off his eyes.

“No need for apologies. You can rest whenever you'd like, Dean.”

“What are you cooking? Can I help?”

“Fried chicken, baked potatoes and uh, mushroom soup.”

Dean smiles, and it startles Cas because it is the first real smile he sees from Dean again, and it takes him back to their hunting days with Sam, road trips in the Impala, and their life in the bunker.

“That sounds amazing.”

“I'm not a very good cook.”

“Dude, you're the best cook for even thinking about making that. You're better than Gordon-fucking- Ramsay himself.”

Cas can't help but smile a little smile at that. And he sees Dean peer curiously at him, like something about Cas smiling is interesting.

“I doubt that. But thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“Man, I missed you.”

Cas doesn't know what to say to that, chokes on his words, looks at the simmering soup on the stove top.

“I missed you too, Dean.” And it pains Cas to realize how true that is as soon as he says it.

\- - -

“Uh Cas, I know it's really not ideal. And I hate to ask, or inconvenience you but, the motel where I was staying is two hours away from here, and uh.."

"Dean, you can stay for as long as you like. Please stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Why would I ask you to leave?"

"I don't know, man. I might be cramping up your style here."

"I don't have...a style.

"What I mean is, I might be--"

"I know what you mean. But you can be sure, you're welcome to stay here. For as long as you like."

They eat in silence. Cas glances up at Dean every now and then, taking in everything that is Dean. Everything that he's missed.

\---

Dean doesn't ask anymore if he could spend the night. It just falls into pattern that he keeps on staying, and Cas doesn't ask him about it. Days turn into a month, and Dean hasn't left.

For some reason, Dean just sleeps. He sleeps and sleeps like he hasn't slept for years. Cas would find him everytime he comes home from work, sleeping either in the guest bedroom, or on the couch.

It's as if the weight of things that happened that should be hanging heavily in between them doesn't matter any more. It takes up space in rooms, on the kitchen table, in short glances and heavy stares. But it doesn't matter anymore. They would gravitate to each other, it feels like that to Cas. Dean would stay in the same space as him.

\---

There is a certain familiarity in their days, it is just like seven years of alienation did not separate them. And yet, there is an air of getting to know each other all over again.

"Why Oregon Cas?" They are fishing, of all the things that Cas drags him to do on a lazy Saturday afternoon, Cas gets him to go fishing. It was not that Cas invited him to go, it's just Dean sort of made it known that they have an unspoken rule that wherever Cas goes on his free time, he'd follow.

 

_"I'm going to the grocery store."_

_ "Okay, I'll drive you." _

 

_ "I'm going for a run, Dean." _

_ "A run? A run? Seriously, Cas. Alright, hang on a sec let me put on something." _

 

_ "I have a book club meeting tonight." _

_ "They got room for one more in the club?" _

 

So yeah, Dean is trying. To do what, he does not know. He is trying to reach out to Cas. 

Cas casts a line in the still water of the lake. Around them, the dusk is settling, and the chill is slowly creeping up Dean's skin.

"This is the last town I drove to to look for you. Until I decided to stop."

Wrong question, Dean thought. _Why Oregon_ is the wrong question.

\---

Two months since that February evening that he came knocking on Cas's door, Dean has now grown familiar of Cas's house. There is a certain charm to it, Castiel's little bungalow on top of the little hill. He learned that Cas used to rent his bedroom in this same house, it was owned by an old woman who didn't have any living family or relatives. When she passed away, she gave the house to Cas.

It is quaint. With big, open windows, so uncharacteristic for an old house. It has chipped brown paint on the exterior, wrought iron bars- a little rusted on the porch, squeaking floorboards and unhinged doors. There is no doubt a lot of repairs that needs to be done, but the house has good bones, and a lot of character; and as April brought rain showers, leaking ceilings.

Do you know that feeling of coming home after a long time of being away? And when you're finally home, you stagnate in bed for days, refuse to do anything, watch the light play in the windows, see the days turn to nights, and sleep. Sleep through weeks of hibernation. That's what Dean did, and he doesn't feel bad about it. He feels entitled to it, somehow. He is however, stirred into activity, this one gloomy rainy morning when he woke up to a cold, dank house. Cas has gone to work earlier that day, and Dean is woken up by the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof. The house is darkened with the dim light outside, and the sheets are warm and comfy. The room is beautiful in this light, even the musty smell is comforting. When he steps outside the bedroom, he is greeted by buckets. Buckets strewn around the living space, about six or seven of them, placed strategically to catch rain water dripping from the ceiling.

_Huh._  Dean rummages through the kitchen drawers, finds a flashlight. He rubs the sleep off his eyes and goes straight to the mudroom, where he finds that pull-down attic ladder in the ceiling trap door. It creaks and all, but Dean climbs, armed with a flashlight. He reaches the attic and is met with rain water dripping all over the rafters and insulation. There are holes on the roof, not big, but big enough to let light and rain sift through from the outside. 

"Fantastic."

\---

"What's the plan with the junk in the garage, Cas?"

Cas has not even closed the front door as he gets home from work, and he hears Dean yell the question from the kitchen. Cas shakes the rain off his coat and goes to find Dean sitting on a counter chair, eating cereal.

"What?" Castiel is perplexed and distracted, firstly because Dean is out of bed, and of all things, eating cereal at three in the afternoon. Secondly, because Dean looks so much like his old self then, boxers and tshirt on, his hair all askew, talking while chewing a mouthful of food. Castiel can't help but smile amusedly.

"The junk in the garage, man."

Cas squints.

"What junk in the--"  _Oh_.

"The old people stuff in the garage. You do know you also got an oldsmobile in there. What's your plan?"

"Uh...I haven't thought about it? Nothing, I guess."

"Well, do you care if you sell them? Make a garage sale out of it?"

"Why?"

"We need money."

Cas can't imagine why. He has money, _does Dean need money?_

"I will give you money, Dean."

Dean chokes on his cereal, coughs out a few pieces.

"Cas, I don't need money--I mean, I do. We do. _You do_. For the house repairs, and the roof, man. In case you haven't noticed, you can take a shower in your living room, Cas. With all the holes in the ceiling."

Cas glances nonchalantly at the pails he's put this morning around the house to catch the drips. He has always done this whenever it rained. Sweet, old Sheila, the previous house owner had always done this too, and was the one who taught this to Cas. It never occured to Cas to fix the problem.

"Fix the house?"

"I mean, it's okay. Just needs some TLC."

"Okay, Dean. We can do that."

Dean grins at him, with a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

"Awesome."

\---

They sort through the stuff in the garage on a weekend when Cas is off of work. There are some really interesting finds in there, Dean thinks. Who knows if some needs appraising because most of the stuff are really old and looks vintage. There are a lot of antiques, that's for sure.

The maroon vintage oldsmobile does not start, Dean finds out, but he knows he can make it run again. Maybe Cas can make a profit out of it.

One thing Dean cannot deny to himself, is that he likes seeing Cas in casual clothes. He likes seeing Cas in jeans and shirts; for the life of him, he gets a kick out of it. Cas is always calm, just like how he'd always been. But there is something about calm and steady Castiel, in jeans and a t-shirt, doing human stuff. Dean watches surreptitiously asCas works, unboxing items in the garage, long fingers examining figurines and odd objects like they're precious artifacts.

They agree on what items to sell. Soon, they are price-tagging with white tape and a sharpie. They load Cas's blue Chevy truck with items they think need appraisal. They are going to an antique shop in the downtown area for that.

"Where'd you get this beauty?" Dean taps on the truck's hood.

"It's really old, Dean. I got it at an auction."

"Nice. Can I drive her?"

\---

Cas can never have envisioned this to happen, not even in a dream. Dean, in the driver's seat of his old chevy pickup, arm slung on the open window sill looking like he belongs there, driving them around his town. Cas feels a tingling up his spine, tries to ignore it because it is just a feeling. No need to read into it.  _Dean is here. With you._

 _ That doesn't mean anything,  _ his  brain supplies with a ready answer.

They come home that night five hundred dollars richer. The appraiser liked the antiques so much, he actually decided to buy them for his shop. Cas is so amazed they made that much money for something that's been sitting in his garage for years. He sends quiet prayer of gratitude to Sheila.

When Dean parks the pickup truck in the driveway, it is already dark. Dean is smiling as he gets out of the vehicle, tosses the keys to Cas, which Cas barely catches.

"So, Beers and pizza?"

"Yes, Dean."

Cas thinks how life seems so much easier with Dean around.

_Please warn me when you have to go this time._ Cas lets out a breath, and follows Dean inside the house .

\---

The next weekend, they open the garage sale. Cas's little house, although well-hidden, is far from secluded, it is in a sprawling suburban neighborhood a few miles out of the city. Location is very good, and people start coming to check out their antique garage sale as early as eight in the morning. By mid-morning, Dean has got his hands full.Castiel, the bastard,  turn s  out to be famous around these parts. While Dean minds the merchandise and the actual transactions, Cas is busy mingling with their customers and visitors. 'Visitors' because some people actually turn up just to chat with Cas. Cas doesn't forget to introduce him to everyone, of course. Which is unfortunate, because Dean never wants to be asked "How come I've never seen you around here before?" or "How did you know Cas?" ever again in his life. 

 _We fucking met in hell, when he raised my ass from perdition._  

 _You've never seen me around here because I'm a shitty friend._  

On the upside, the neighbors are actually nice people. In fact, the folks around here are really decent and the good kind. As a cherry on top, Cas has some really hot friends. Dean gets introduced to the book club people who would pop by, and oh boy, do book-loving women around here sure serve looks.

"Dean, this is Michelle and her daughter Stacey." Dean didn't know he'd be socializing with all of town when he proposed this garage sale.

Michelle is hot. Brown hair, brown eyes, dark skin; She carries herself elegantly, and smiles at Cas like he hangs the moon or something. Stacey is almost as tall as her mother, all dark looks and angry teen hormones, she wears black all over. But the teenager smiles at Cas coyly.

"Hello, Dean." Michelle offers her hand for Dean to shake, and Dean takes it. "How do you know Castiel?"

_ Oh fuck, here we go again. _

 \---

"What's up with you and Michelle?" They are counting the cash profits they got from the day's sale. Dean sits across from Cas in the dining table, and just blurts out the question.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you dating her?" Dean smiles in that teasing way of his. Other than that, his face is unreadable.

"We used to." Cas admits, there is no reason to withhold the truth. But Dean looks surprised at Cas's reply.

"Used to? Wow. Man, she is hot, I'll give you that...Well, what happened?...Didn't work out?"

"I found out I'm gay."

\---

Dean gapes at Cas like he just said the most absurd set of words to ever make sense in the English language.

"Wh--Sorry?"

"I'm gay, Dean." Cas says casually, as he carefully stacks bills and coins on the table top.

"Wh-when, how? what?" It is a definitive, singular question all together.

"I had sexual relations with a man."

The barrage of images that come to Dean's mind at that statement is unstoppable.

"Wow." Is all Dean can say as he stares at his friend like Cas is a different person suddenly.Cas looks at him once, somber and inexpressive, and goes back to the bills on the table. Dean just wants to whack his own head on the nearest wall.

After a while, it seems, Dean breaks the silence.

"Cas, h-how did you find out?"

"He...wanted me. Liked me, even. He made his intentions clear, and I tried to make it work with him. I found out, because I liked being with him, Dean.. In um, that way."

In that way?  _In that way? In what way? What fucking way?_ Dean is practically yelling inside his head.

"So, um, what happened?"

"I ended it."

"It didn't work out?"

"No. But I knew I'm gay ever since him."

They are quiet for a long time. And then Cas says,

"I hope this doesn't change anything."

"N-Cas, why would it change anything?"

"Thank you." He holds Cas's stare, there is a pleading look in them. One that begs for understanding or forgiveness. And Dean hates it that Cas thinks there might be a chance that Dean could look at him differently because of his sexuality.

"Our earnings are seven hundred dollars."

Dean breaks away from his trance.

"Great! That's great, Cas! That's enough to replace the uh--roof tiles."

"And still enough for some house repairs?"

"Yeah, um, that too." Dean is out of breath, and he shouldn't have a reason to be.

All he could think about was Cas had sex. With a man. Dean keeps picturing that whole fucking concept that he can barely wrap his head around. He has a lot of questions.

That night, he lays restlessly in bed, tossing and turning, thinking about those fucking questions, verging on inappropriate.  _How many times? Who was on the receiving end?_ God, he can't take the picture of Cas sprawled naked and open for some guy. Cas kissed that guy, whoever that bastard was.  _Who was he? Did they cuddle after? Did they live together? Share the same bed? For how long did they stay together?_

Dean doesn't know why he needs an answer, but he just does, okay? Like, shit, Cas had sex with a guy, no big deal. That should be the end of it, right? Right?

But  no , he just fucking has to know, one way or another.

_ Shit . _

\---

Cas knows it shouldn't affect him, that Dean knowing he's gay should not change anything. Cas doesn't have any reason to hide, most of Castiel's friends and co-workers know, Cas himself is not trying to hide that fact. But there is a shift in Dean. Over the next few days, Dean seems more careful around him, like he's tiptoeing around him. And Cas is terrified, if he's honest with himself, that he scares Dean away again. So he keeps to himself. 

\---

Dean preoccupies himself with the house work, and the house repairs. Because the weather is still wet to work on the roof, he starts inside the house. He repairs the broken cupboards, loose planks of the hardwood flooring, unhinged doors, broken doorknobs. He works all day everyday. WhenCas heads to work, he gets to work too. Along with the repairs, he can't help but clean as well. He sorts through the house, from the mudroom, kitchen, to the garage. He organizes, and throws away stuff he thinks would have no use for Cas. When Cas would get home, Dean would consult his recent find around the house to his friend. Update Cas about what he'd last repaired. Cas is always grateful, he would cook for dinner everyday, and leave coffee in the machine for Dean every morning.

With every room in the house Dean rummages through, he knows a little more about Cas each day. He sorts through the coats and jackets Cas has in the mudroom closet, finds some of them are dirty. He can't help but put them in the washer, add some softener he's bought at a dollar store that smelled really nice. He found hiking shoes that are covered with crusted mud that looks like it hasn't been cleaned for two summer hikes now. Dean soaks Cas's muddy shoes in water. He cleans the windows, washes all the curtains as well. In the kitchen, Dean finds out that Cas bakes. Dean organizes Cas's baking tools and kitchenware in the cupboards and drawers. He washes the floors, put a wood shine on them.

On a particularly warm afternoon, Dean finally wanders in to Cas's room. He knows he's not supposed to do so, but Cas never banned him from there or anything. The first thing he notices is how much bigger his own room is compared to Cas's. He soon realizes, the 'guestroom' he's bunking in is actually the master bedroom. So Cas didn't move rooms from his renting days, that's probably it. Castiel's room smells like cotton and summer rain, there's no other way to describe it. The windows are open, and a light breeze is sifting through the flimsy white curtains. The bed, as Dean could never have imagined, is unmade. The blue and white bed covers are strewn all over as if Cas had been wrestling with them during the night. There is a nightstand where books are piled up high, some books on the floor too beside the bed. Dean picks up one, entitled 'Capitalism vs the Climate'. Dean goes through all Cas's books and finds out they are from varying sorts of genre from self-help, to science fiction, to romance. Dean smiles and imagines Cas reading the paperback Harlequinn romance. _Cas needs a book shelf_ , Dean makes a mental note. He stands up from crouching, and his feet lead him to Cas's closet. He opens it and finds Cas's very small wardrobe, shirts on their hangers, some ironed, some wrinkled. He picks up a shirt, touches the material of the fabric with his thumb; and it is entirely reflex that he puts it to his face, and buries his nose in the softness of it.

 _Shit, what are you doing?_ He catches himself mid-sniff, hangs back the shirt in the rack, and shuts the closet a little too forcefully. Dean hurries outside and shuts Cas's bedroom door tight. 

He cleans the garage from top to bottom. When Cas gets home that afternoon, he gapes at the spotless kitchen like all of his hgtv dreams had been granted. Dean feels fucking awesome.

\---

The house has never been cleaner, or livelier. In the middle of it all, stands Dean, looking beautiful, cheeks flushed and smiling.

"How do you like it, Cas? I mean, it's not by any means done, but we're getting there."

"How do I like it? Dean, this is wonderful. It feels lighter in here."

"Wait 'til you see the garage." Dean chuckles proudly.

\---

In spring, Cas starts working in the backyard. It turns out, Cas has a bunch of root and vegetable crops out there. In between the backyard and the roof, and working on his day job, Cas has grown quite busy. Dean assumes the role of the cook. He doesn't know when it started, but he would wake up in the morning to make breakfast for the both of them. At lunch, he'd drop off Cas's lunch at work. Dinner, they'd usually do together.

Weekends are the best, because Cas doesn't have work, and Dean drives them around town to do errands. He shouldn't think of it that way, but Dean has Cas all to himself on weekends.

They've almost finished laying the new roof tiles. Dean offers to do the roof for the rest of the day as Cas needs to do some work in the backyard. From the roof where he is finishing the last of the tiles, Dean can see Cas in the backyard, crouched down where he is working on the ground. That day, Cas is wearing a light blue button-up shirt, arm sleeves folded up to his tanned arms. And jeans. Dean thinks poster ad for jeans, damn could Cas rock a pair of good ol' faded denims. Dean forgets about the roof tile, stares openly at Cas's back muscles playing against the fabric of his shirt, the long line of his arm muscles shifting as his hands work. Cas chooses that moment to turn and look up at Dean on the roof, and Dean almost fucking falls off upon being caught looking. He averts his eyes just after catching a glimpse of Cas smiling up at him.

\---

"I have a date."

Dean coughs out his coffee by the kitchen sink.

"What did you say?"

"I have a date tonight, Dean."

It is Friday night, and Cas's book club friends has set him up with a date. For weeks, they have been nagging him to reveal the real "score" with him and Dean. They keep insisting that Dean could not be merely a friend, that Dean looks at him differently, that they are harboring secret non-platonic feelings for each other. Cas has given up at this point convincing them otherwise. Cas knows and has accepted that Dean would never feel that way about him.

If he is honest with himself, and any man or angel could tell from his past, no questions asked, how Castiel has fallen in every way imaginable for Dean Winchester. If he looks in his heart of hearts, Dean is his train that had passed that he'd be waiting on for eternity, his torch in the night, his Northern star. Dean is the turmoil in the center of his grace, and the perfect calm in the eye of the storm. Dean is his in that way. He could weep about it, or he could take a claim. But Castiel does not dare risk it, when he could also be perfectly still that Dean is by his side at this moment, ready to flee at the next.

Dean thumps at his chest, looks at him from across the counter.

"A date? With a guy?"

"Yes. I though I made it clear to you that I am.."

"I know, Cas, that you're gay. I know. Just that-- who is it?" 

"I don't know, my friends set up our date. I'm meeting him for the first time tonight."

"Are you fucking crazy?" Dean looks hysterical suddenly. Cas does not know what is so crazy about a date, and is honestly taken aback by Dean's reaction.

"You're meeting a guy for the first time, alone? At night?"

Cas doesn't mean to, but the laughter bubbled up involuntarily out of him. 

"Dean, do you hear yourself? I'm going on a date, not a hunt. And yes, at night." Cas says, smiling amusedly.

Dean scrunches his face with a hand.

"You're fucking laughing at me." Dean scoffs. "All I meant was, this guy could be dangerous, he could be an axe murderer, you never know these days."

"It's not the first time I went on a date with a guy I haven't met, Dean. I can assure you the odds of dating an axe murderer are pretty slim."

"You-- I'll drive you, then." Dean just looks resigned, as he leans back on the counter top. Cas doesn't understand, he never does, with Dean.

\---

"I can drive myself, I have a vehicle," Cas replies,  _the cocky bastard._

" Man, please. Just--" Dean exclaims, and words seem to have left his train of thought, as he just looks at Cas pleadingly.

That's how he drives Cas to his fucking date, because Dean is just that pathetic.  _Cas is not a child that needs chaperoning. He survived seven years of being human without you, he even did fucking better than you._

They arrive at this sleazy excuse for a steakhouse, Dean pulls up and parks the Impala.

" _This_ is where this guy decided to take you?"

"We agreed to meet here, yes."

Cas looks, well, great.  _Goddamnit._ He is wearing a black shirt, and jeans. _Of course_. The shirt isn't fitted but it might as well be, because it looks fucking good on Cas's slender built.

"Thanks for driving me, Dean."

"Just text me when to pick you up."

"I can ask him to drop me off at home, Dean. You don't need to come get me."

_ The hell I don't. _

"I'll be at that bar across anyway," Dean points to the joint across the road, and tries not to think how low he has subjected himself to sink to. The bar looks fucking seedy. "Send me a text when ya'll are done."

Cas looks at him, all squinty-eyed.  _Please don't argue._  

"Okay, Dean. Don't get too drunk," Cas gets off the Impala.

_ Fucking yes. _

\---

Travis was very attractive, Cas thinks. He was also easy to talk with, and he shares quite a few interests with Cas. Their date winded down, and in the end, that's all it really was to Cas. A date. 

Travis offers Cas a ride home, Cas refuses and thanks Travis for the wonderful night and interesting conversation. And they say their goodbyes.

**I'm ready to go home, Dean.** Cas sends Dean the text. Not even two seconds and he gets a reply.

** I'm right outside. **

 True enough, the Impala is right by the entrance, waiting for Cas. He looks at Dean in the driver's seat, and he can't help but be confused about this. Was Dean so eager to pick him up after his date? He gets in the vehicle.

"We're you waiting for me for long? I thought you'll be at the bar?"

Dean looks like he's not had a drop of alcohol.

"I waited in the parking lot, man. That bar's too seedy, even for me."

"You didn't have to wait for me for that long, Dean. What did you do in the car?"

Deans starts driving.

"Listened to some tunes."

"I don't understand why you're doing this." Cas says before he can think.

Dean doesn't say anything for a long time. There is a terse silence inside the car all of a sudden.

"Doing what?"

"Please don't do that, you  _kn_ _ow_ what I'm talking about, Dean."

There is an even heavier silence this time. They reach a stop light. The intersection is empty, the little shops are closed, and the sidewalks are bare.

"I don't want you dating."

It is a mere whisper, and Cas has to grip his seat to not be physically assaulted by the weight of those words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things considered, Castiel has a house. All things considered, Castiel has life, without Dean Winchester.
> 
> It has been seven years since Sam died, seven years since Dean left Castiel, broken and human, and disconnected from humanity. Dean had severed all ties with him, and seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth. That, or he had been running away from him, when Castiel had been hell bent on scouring through America looking for him. But Castiel had to stop eventually, somewhere along the way. And he chose a little town of Oregon to settle in.
> 
> Seven years, and Dean shows up at his door on a chilly February night, saying the stupidest set of words to ever be said to Castiel's face: "I was--just passing by the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop by...to see you."
> 
> And Cas doesn't know what to do.
> 
> THIS WORK IS COMPLETE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to post something after a long time, I had to cut the story into two parts so I can post the first one up already. lol. 
> 
> This part has the smut (eeyy). FAIR WARNING: The smut is really hot in this one, it might not be to your taste because it is OBSCENE, obscene I tell ya.
> 
> Peace out.

Dean grips at the steering wheel as he drives through the familiar town, not really seeing anything, just going through the motions of driving back to the house.

He cannot believe the words actually left his mouth.  _Fucking shit._

 _I don't want you dating._ There are a couple things he can think that is entirely wrong with that statement. Fucking number one: What right does he have to say those actual words to Cas? His friend Cas, who is sitting not a feet away from him in the passenger seat. And two, why???? Why the fuck is it true?  _Why_ doesn't he want Cas to date? 

 _Because you're fucking jealous, that's why,_ his brain supplies effortlessly. The thing is, he shouldn't be jealous because fucking number one: He's straight. And two, Castiel is just his friend. Right?

Dean finally glances in the passenger seat, Castiel is looking straight at him, somber eyes searching and confused, almost black in the dark. There is a small gap in between his lips, a slight tremble. Just like that, all those years ago with Cas and Sam flash before his eyes. Heaven, and hell and Purgatory. In the middle of it all is Cas. Cas who is steady and strong, and loyal. And Dean realizes that all this time, all this fucking time, even when they were separated, that it is Cas that's holding him up. Cas is human now, he looks human; but the way he feels to Dean is not. It is ever the same. He is the same Cas from that barn, a million years ago, it seems. Suddenly it makes sense why Dean is jealous of Cas dating, and having these meaningful relationships as a human. Dean is jealous not because he cannot have those, he's jealous because Cas was first his. Cas is his only. 

"What did you say?" Cas asks softly.

"Shit, I'm sorry Cas," They reach the house, and Dean pulls up in the driveway. He turns off the engine, and awkward silence falls in between them. 

"Just-forget it," Dean says quietly. He reaches for the door and gets the hell out of the Impala. He practically runs for the front door, and he hears Cas get out of the car too.

"Forget it?" Cas yells at him. Dean turns just before he reaches the door.

"Yes! Okay?"

Dean gets inside, locks himself in the safety of his room. Because he is a fucking coward.

\---

There is zero chance of Castiel forgetting what Dean said. That night, he tosses and turns in bed.He knows that he might just be reading too much into it, maybe Dean didn't mean anything by it. He sleeps a fitful sleep, and wakes up tired. 

He walks into the kitchen and Dean is not there like he is every morning. There is a covered up plate of bacon and eggs and toast on the counter, still warm. Cas strides to the window to look out in the driveway. The Impala is parked where it was last night. Cas looks at Dean's closed bedroom door, attempts to knock, but decides against it at the last second. Cas is not stupid, he knows when he is being avoided. He eats the breakfast that Dean made for him, gets ready for work. Just before he leaves, turns on the coffee machine, and makes coffee for Dean.

\---

He cannot hide forever. He also wants to bring Cas his lunch, because he keeps wondering what Cas would eat if doesn't bring lunch.

_Guy has a truck. He's perfectly capable of driving somewhere to buy his own lunch._

But Dean still goes. He corners one of Cas's co-workers and asks them to bring the lunch bag to Cas. Then he makes a quick exit.

That night, he hears Cas putter in the kitchen. Dean doesn't get out, skips dinner altogether. At midnight, Dean wills himself to man up and face the music, opens his bedroom door, and steps out into the well-lit kitchen. He finds a note on the counter.

_Your dinner is in the fridge._

Dean frowns at himself, opens the fridge to find a food container of pasta in white sauce. He takes it out, and on the cover there is a post-it note that says, 

_Please talk to me already_

And Dean smiles for the first time that day, shit-eating grin like he's won the lottery. He forgets the food, goes to get his phone in his room.

 **Come out.** He sends the text to Castiel.

\---

 _Come out_ , the text says. Cas just about flounders out of bed, and out into the hall from his room. He finds Dean standing by the counter, eating food from the microwaveable container he prepared for him. Castiel's breath takes, it's only been a whole day that he hasn't seen Dean but the sight of him then lifts something heavy inside Cas.

"Hello."

"Hi, Cas."

Castiel sits on one of the counter stools across from where Dean is standing. They don't say anything for a long time, but Dean is looking at him, mouth full of food. So Castiel stares back.

"Is it good?" Cas asks quietly.

Dean grins at him, like he's trying hard to contain a laugh or something. It is like looking at the sun, and Castiel can't help his smile. He wants to go to Dean, to be close to him, he doesn't know. Castiel just _aches._

_\---_

They end up watching movies the entire night, on the couch side by side, drinking beers. Until they forget about the TV, and they start talking, reminiscing. Mostly about Sam. Dean has not talked about Sam for seven years, not in this way. Not in this kind of light conversation. They talked about Sam's research kink, his way of talking, his bitch face, all his little mannerisms, his love of salad and all that organic frou frou. His gigantor built. His fucking hair. The way he lets out gas that could make grown men faint.  _I swear he can hunt monsters with his fart, man._ His savior complex. His gentle soul. His love of dogs.  _We should have gotten a dog._

It is four AM, the TV volume low and they're laughing at something hilarious Sam did in one their hunts before. They have finished two packs of beer, and Cas is visibly flushed, probably a little tipsy. Dean looks at Cas in the low light of the television, and Dean thinks that he hasn't laughed like this in a long time. He hasn't felt this light in a long time, like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest. 

_Thank you._

Cas is in the middle of telling a story about that one time Sam had gotten out of the bunker showers wearing soap suds all over because the water stopped on him. Dean cuts him off suddenly.

"What do you want out of this life, Cas?" He blurts out the question as it comes to mind.

Cas stops mid-sentence, and stares back at him. He looks away after a while, takes a swig of his beer.

"I don't know." Then after a beat, "Do you?"

Dean thinks. And the answer slapped him in the face, bold and unforgiving. 

_You. I just want you._

_\---_

Castiel knows his answer to Dean's question. _What do you want out of this life?_ He has known for ages. But he says a safe answer. He repeats the question back to Dean. Dean looks away as if to think. After a while, Dean chuckles. The sound is rich and thick.

"I want to travel, this time I don't want to hunt. I just want to see the views, Cas. You know what I mean?'

Castiel nods in agreement.

"Maybe go on hikes, explore parks. Then come back home again."

 _Home._ Cas wonders which place does Dean call home.

"I just need someone to do it all with." Dean looks at Cas as he says it. And Cas does not know how to answer.

\---

It's like playing house with Cas, and Dean enjoys every second. He is nesting, there's no doubt about it. Dean cannot believe at this day and age, that Cas survived without wi-fi. So he subscribes to a local provider, and they installed it that same day. He cannot let Cas pay for it or for everything else in the house anymore, so Dean scours the internet for local mechanic jobs. And then he goes to town.

He can't believe his luck, not many people finds a job the same day they decide to look for one. But Dean does. Sinclair's is an auto shop a little outside of town, closer to the city. It is a twenty minute drive from Cas's hill. The exterior looks a little old, but the receiving lobby appears clean and tidy, and functional. There are probably half a dozen customers waiting in there while their vehicles are serviced. A stout, young lady, face all made up, lips a crimson red, smiles up at Dean prettily.

"What can I help you with?" man, is she perky. Very charming.

"I'm Dean. I'm here for the mechanic job."

"Hey! You saw my ad!" She looks very proud about it. "I like you already! My name is Anne. Hello Dean, nice to meet you."

Dean is directed to a man named Bubba, a burly guy who doesn't smile, wears a jump suit, and chews gum.

"Consider this your orientation."

"What? Sorry?"

"You start today, that's the locker rooms, we have spare work clothes in there. Don't worry they're clean. I washed them myself."

"I'm hired? You're not going to interview me?"

Bubba straightens up from being under the hood of a car he's working on, places a hand on his hip.

"Nah, man. I'm willing to bet you know cars more than I do."

Dean looks at him confusedly.

"Two things, your hands and that beauty parked outside."

Dean beams at him. He likes Bubba already.

\---

Cas looks at the casserole on the table, already cold now, a baked apple pie next to it. He is sitting by the dining table, a plate setting in front of him and another across him where Dean usually sits. But Dean is not there. It's already seven in the evening.

Cas thumbs at the phone in his pocket, fishes it out. There are no texts or calls. Should he call Dean? What will he say?

 _ Where are you? Are you still coming back?   _ Does Cas have a right to even ask those questions? Is he prepared for the answer? No. So he puts the phone back in his pocket, buries his face in his hands.

Two more hours pass by, Cas goes to Dean's room. Dean's bed is made as usual, everything is tidy. There is no clue that Dean has decided to leave, there is no clue either that Dean is still coming back. Castiel eyes the closet, and his heart beats frantically against his chest, he swallows a lump on his throat, thumbs the closet knob before he opens it.

"Cas?" He hears Dean call from the living room, he hears the front door shut. The closet is packed with Dean's stuff, shirts on the rack, duffle bag on the floor, pants folded neatly. Cas closes his eyes, calms his breathing.

"Cas, whattaya doing here?" Dean appears at the bedroom door, just before Cas can shut the closet. 

Cas turns to him, and Dean looks glorious standing there, _still here_ _. He's still here. _

Their eyes meet, and realization must have dawned on Dean. Because his eyes soften looking at Cas.

"I thought you left." There is a break in Castiel's voice, so he repeats it, "I thought you left."

\---

Dean wants to go, close that gap between them in three strides. Erase that ache in Castiel's face. He wants it to go away.

_ Cas, no. I'm not going, I'm not leaving. _

" You--you thought--I'm right here, Cas. My stuff are still here."

"I was afraid to look in your closet. I might find it empty." Cas says quietly.

_ I'm not fucking leaving you. _

It finally clicks with Dean. Cas wants him here.

Cas moves to the door, and out. He hears Cas's bedroom door shut, and the audible click of the lock. Dean stands outside, looks at the dining table and his heart breaks for Cas. For the two of them.

\---

** My battery died. I should have called. I'm sorry, Cas. **

** Fuck, Im so sorry. **

Cas should not cry, he knows better than to be emotional about this. Oh yes, he's cried for Dean Winchester before. Story of his life, angel or no angel. God help him.

Morning comes, and Dean is in the kitchen making breakfast. Cas steps out of his room; finds Dean in a t-shirt and jeans, looking like he's going somewhere.

"Good morning, Cas." Dean smiles at him.

"Hello, Dean."

"I can't pop by your work at lunch so I'm packing your lunch."

Cas is confused.

"I got a job."

"What?"

"Sinclair's. You know that joint before the exit to the big highway to the city? I got a mechanic job there."

"You got a job." Cas doesn't even know that he said the words slowly, like he's trying to make sense of them.

"Is that okay, Cas?" Dean is leaning with both hands on the counter top, looking at Cas. Asking for permission. Dean Winchester is asking if it's okay for him to keep a job in his town.

Cas nods robotically, and tries to steady his breath.

\---

He wants weekends with Cas free, so he requested weekends off at Dean's new workplace. Dean could not have found a better job or better workmates that perfectly suit him, so he's happy as a clam. On top of it all, Cas seem to have forgiven his little blunder the last time.

Weekends they work around the house, do some errands, sometimes drive out to the city or the neighboring towns. There is something about seeing Castiel behind the wheel, something entirely... _sexy._ There's no other way to say it. So Dean lets Cas drive every time.

They are driving back to town from buying spare parts for the Oldsmobile in the garage. Cas is driving, Dean has his window down. He can't stop stealing glances at Cas, and taking in the long lines of his fingers holding the steering wheel loosely. He likes the way Cas's hand skitters to the gear shift, like a habit, even though he doesn't need to change the gear. He likes the way Cas looks to the open road ahead, as if there are new things in the horizon. He likes the little smile on Castiel's lips as he looks out through the windshield, like he has a secret he's keeping.

"What the hell are you smiling about, man?"

Cas glances at him like he's been caught off guard.

"Nothing." He sounds like he's lying. "I like driving."

"I like _you_ driving." The confession falls out easily from his lips. "Uh, I like being the passenger for once." Great save, Winchester.

Dean looks at the column of Cas's neck, smooth and bare, and Dean wants to bury his nose in it. He wants to smell his hair, feel the chocolate-colored strands against his fingers. He just wants to be closer to Cas. He wonders, just wonders...

"When you were with this guy you were intimate with... Who uh, who-- took...it?" _He has to know, somehow._ So he asks, even though he struggles with the question.

Cas is silent for some time.

"I was the bottom."

There is a pause that could have fitted one chronological timeline in world history.

Nothing could have prepared Dean for Castiel's answer. Nothing. The deluge of images assaulted his brain, and Dean is hard inside his pants no time.

_ Fuck. Fuck. _

" Were you together for long?"

"No. I ended it as soon as I know I didn't feel anything for him."

"How many times?"

Cas glances at him, unsure of the question. Dean squirms in  his seat, trying to hide his erection.

"How many times what, Dean?"

"Did you fuck."  _ How many times did you fuck.  _ Because Dean hates himself that much. His mouth is suddenly very dry.

"I- many times, Dean."

They get home, and Dean gets out of the vehicle like his ass is on fire. He goes straight to the bathroom, jerks off and comes against the bathroom tiles.

That's the first time Cas got him hard, and he allowed it. The second time is when he finds Cas in the kitchen in the middle of one particulary hot summer night, rummaging in the fridge, in nothing but white fucking briefs. Dean double takes on his way out of his room at the sight of Cas's brief-clad ass. Casmust have heard him make a sound, and turns to look at Dean. Cas has a glass of milk in one hand, and Dean can't help but look down to the hard planes of Cas's stomach, down to the definite bulge in Castiel's briefs. Cas's cock is beautifully outlined by the white fabric. There's no doubt about it, Cas is hung.

_Fucking hell, Cas is hung._ Dean wants to reach out and touch. He catches his breath, doesn't even pretend to fake that he's not affected, he makes a run for his room, shuts the door close. He doesn't even make it to the bed, he's jacking off against the door.

\---

Cas cannot just will off his erections. These days, he seems to be constantly hard for Dean. It is difficult because he can't stop thinking about it, even at work. He doesn't know how it started, this palpable sexual tension between them. Maybe it's just Cas, he doesn't know. Every little thing sets him off--Dean in his work clothes, Dean cooking, Dean's hands, the curve of his ass, the muscles on his back. When Dean talks, doesn't matter what's it about he's saying, Castiel's eyes would always zero in on Dean's lips. Then Dean would stop talking altogether, and they'd just look at each other, and give up making the conversation, go on their separate ways to escape the tension. It is very counterproductive. They try to avoid each other, but they somehow still stay in the same space, never too far away.

\---

Dean has never jerked off this many times in his life. Not even when he was a teenager. Fucking hell, he needs to get laid.

It's a weekend, and he is frustratedly fixing a leak in the plumbing under the sink. He is cussing, and swearing as he pounds the wrench on a bolt that won't budge. In the back of his mind is Cas, _it always is Cas._ He is whipped, that's what he is. In every fucking way, he is so whipped. And he's fucking in love with his friend, Cas. Of all the times to finally, unequivocally admit it to himself, he chooses this moment with his face two inches from the leaking sink pipe.

\---

They are silent in front of the food. No one is moving, Cas's jaw is stiff and his knuckles are white from gripping the fork and knife.

"I can't do this." Dean puts his knife down, gets up from the table, heads to the door, takes off his coat from the hook. Cas follows him, mouth suddenly dry, he swallows.

"Dean, where are you going."

"To get laid." Dean is putting his coat on. And Castiel had to say it.

"Do it with me."

\---

"What did you say?" Dean stops in his tracks. His mouth hanging open. And Castiel just fucking looks back at him.

"Cas, repeat what you just said." He doesn't care how predatory that sounds, he has to be fucking sure what Cas just said.

"I said, do it with me." It is a quiet whisper. But it is clear. There is a beat where they simply look at each other, holding their breaths, and Cas looks so unsure. But his eyes tell a different story, dark and filled with desire. Dean reaches Cas in three strides, crushes his mouth to his. _Finally, fucking finally._

\---

Dean's mouth feels like coming home. Dean's lips are finally on his, and they're melting away all his defenses. He feels Dean's hands on his face, cupping his jaw, his fingertips on his hair; as Dean laps on his mouth with open-mouthed kisses. Cas's heart is on his throat, and his soul is singing, thrumming with joy.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean is breathing heavily against his lips. "Are you sure?"

Cas just nods because he's not sure he's capable of speech. He feels Dean's hand move to his back and downwards, to firmly grope his ass.

"Tell me."

"Yes, Dean, please."

"Are you mine, Cas?" Dean is persistent with his hands, both of them kneading Cas's ass cheeks. And Cas is so hard inside his pants, he can't think straight.

"Always."

\---

Dean has lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, he is rubbing his hard-on against Cas's jeans where he feels the angel's hard cock through the denim.

"Oh fuck, Cas. Fuck."

Castiel catches his words with his mouth, the way he kisses is obscene, and Dean is impossibly hard he thinks he can come from just kissing Castiel.

"Fuck, baby, your lips are so good. You kiss so good, Cas."

He feels Cas's hand snake from his chest, downwards. Dean holds his breath when Castiel reaches his jeans, he cups the bulge in Dean's pants and gently strokes it. It feels so good. Dean takes off Castiel's shirt, goes straight to lick on his nipples, as he explores the hard planes of Cas's abdomen.

"Oh, Dean, yes please."

Goddamnit, Castiel begging is so hot. Dean might have come in his pants a little.

"You like that, angel?"

"Yes."

"You like your nips being sucked on?"

"Yes." Cas is out of breath, holding Dean's head against his chest.

"You're so beautiful, Cas."

"So are you."

Dean takes off his jacket and shirt. Cas unbuttons his jeans, as they move to the couch all the same time. Dean takes off the jeans and his boxers just before he sits on the couch, his hard cock springing out, slapping against his stomach. Cas is kneeling in front of him in no time; he doesn't have the chance to remove the jeans entirely before Cas is there licking the head of his cock.

"Oh, fuck, baby." He buries his hands in Cas's brown hair. He never could have imagined it like this, not in a million years. "Yes, that's it Cas. Suck me."

Cas does, in one swift motion, he puts Dean's whole cock inside his mouth, his tongue swirling around the girth. And Dean can't think of anything that can top that feeling right there. His cock in Castiel's wet mouth.

"I've been jerking off to you for weeks, Cas. Please tell me I can fuck you."

"You can fuck me." Castiel looks up at him, his eyes blue and dark, swollen lips near the head of his swollen cock. That image will probably be etched in his mind for all of eternity. He can lose all bodily function, but that image of Cas will probably stay.

"Come here."He tells Cas. "Take off your pants," Cas does, his erection springs free, and it's bigger than Dean's. His mouth waters at the sight of it.

"Cas, you're so big, looks so good."

"Dean, please," Cas looks at him pleadingly.

"Want me to suck you off, baby?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

Cas holds the base of his own cock, holding it so that the head points to Dean.

"Please suck my cock, Dean."

It is so hot, the words and that image of Cas practically jerking his own hard dick.

"When's the last time you jerk off thinking about me, Cas?"

"Last night. In bed."

"Did you finger yourself?"

Cas lets out a moan as he pumps his cock one, two times.

"Did you come hard?"

"All over my sheets, Dean."

"Come here." And Dean just wraps his mouth around Cas's girth, no preamble. He feels so fucking good inside Dean's mouth. He takes out the whole dick, looks up at Cas, sucks just the tip.

"Dick so good, Cas."

Cas moans obscenely. Dean sucks pre-come off the hard member, as he pumps his own cock. After a while, he lays Cas down on the leather couch, Cas goes without protest. He pushes Cas's legs up to expose Cas's hole. It's pink and puffy and looks so tight.

"Fuck, Cas. Have you been fucking yourself."

Cas moans in the affirmative.

 

He cannot be even more harder, pre-come leaks from his cock, he ignores it as he laps on Cas's hole without warning.

"Ahhh"

"You okay, Cas."

"Yes, please do that again."

"Use your words."

"Lick my hole, Dean."

"As you wish."

Dean never imagined he would enjoy rimming. Underneath him, Cas is a squirming, beautiful mess.

"Fuck it with you tongue."

"Damn, baby." But Dean obeys, he pushes in two fingers.

"Do you like this, huh, Cas? My fingers up your ass? Fuck, man, you are so beautiful like this."

"Yes, Dean fuck me open with your fingers just like that."

Dean doesn't know how Cas learned to dirty talk, he's suddenly hit by a wave of jealousy.

"No one ever gets to see you like this, Cas. You understand?" He keeps fucking him his the fingers, and starts jerking him off with the other hand. "No one ever gets to fuck you like this."

"Dean, please, now."

"Are you clean?"

"Yes."

Dean moves to straddle Cas's torso, so that his cock is suddenly in Cas's face. Castiel moves immediately to suck on it hungrily.

"You look so good with a mouthful of dick, Castiel." His full name sounds hot on Dean's lips.

Dean moves in between Cas's legs, inserts a lubed up finger in his hole. Damn, it's so warm and tight. He can't wait to put his cock in there.

"Dean, please."

"I'm right here, baby. I'll fuck you so good."

He penetrates Cas slowly, trying not to hurt him. When he's putting his cock in, it feels so fucking good, having to feel Cas's warmth engulf him inch by delicious inch.

"Ahh, Cas!"

"Dean, you feel so good."

Dean starts a languid beat with his hips as he moves in and out ofCas's hole.

"Your pussy feels so good, Cas." Dean whispers at Castiel's lips. That must be triggering for Cas, as he sobs mid-moan.

"Want to fuck you like this all the time. No condoms, I want to come inside you, fill you up good, Cas. You want that?"

"Yes! Yes please, Dean."

Dean is pounding Cas earnestly now, hitting his prostate, nudging it with the tip of his cock with every thrust.

"Oh, Dean, don't stop."

"Want my cock?"

"Yes, I want it. It's do big inside me, Dean."

Fuck! Dean is coming, he withdraws the rigid cock and kneels on top of Castiel, jerking off his dick on top of Castiel's hard, leaking one.

"I'm coming, fuck, I'm coming, angel!"

He deposits his come on Castiel's dick, milking the last drops and slapping his spent cock on Cas's. Streaks of white cover Cas's hard cock, Cas looks up at him panting. Then Dean crouches down to lick at the come-covered dick, until he puts the whole girth inside his mouth, come and all.

"Dean! Oh, fuck, Dean please."

Dean keeps sucking, while looking up at Cas. It's sloppy, and beautiful, and just what Dean needs. He wants Cas like this, everyday.

"I'm gonna come! Move, Dean!"

Dean latches on, doesn't stop sucking. Until Cas is coming in his mouth, and Dean keeps swallowing. When Cas stops thrashing, Deans keeps Cas's cock in his mouth, softly suckling it, to milk every last drop.

Cas pulls him up to him, after some time. He gently kisses Dean's lips, all red and swollen. 

"That was life-changing, Dean Winchester."

Dean chuckles against his lips, before he kisses him again.

\---

Castiel thinks this might be the highlight of his life. He has led legions of celestial being into wars, braved through demons in the depths of hell, and survived every imaginable creature in purgatory. He has been crowned Seraph, and a decorated war lord. No glory would probably come close to this. This right here, when Dean is beside him, in the aftermath of a beautiful love-making. Dean spoons him from behind. They have moved to the bedroom last night, and had sex once more through the night. He feels Dean nuzzle the side of his neck and hair, and Cas smiles at the the brightness of day shining through the window.

"I have to go to work," Cas tries to move. Dean tightens his grip on Cas's middle.

"Call in sick."

Castiel chuckles. "Very funny, Dean."

"I'm fucking serious, man. Call in sick." Dean moves to pick up the phone from the night stand, hands it to Cas.

"Please?" Dean looks so young, trying to look all puppy-eyed, pleading, pouty lips and all.

"I don't know what to tell them."

"Tell them you're on your honeymoon. With your husband." Cas's heart skips a beat, looks at Dean imploringly.

"Dean."

Dean grins at him, takes the phone, dials the shop's number before Cas can stop him. Cas hears the phone line ringing.

"Hello, yes, this is Dean. Castiel can't come to work. Yeah, man, he's sick with flu." Dean pauses and the other person on the line says something. "Thank you, I'll tell him."

Castiel's eyes are wide in shock.

"Dean, what did you do?"

"Jay from work says get well soon."

Dean drops the phone in between them, puts his arms around his neck, and kisses him squarely on the mouth. Cas's  heart is singing.

“How about you spend your vacation days on a road trip with me, across America? No hunting, just strictly pleasure." Dean asks against his lips, his eyes flitting over Castiel's face. "Whattaya say, Cas? We can go to Yellowstone, Grand Canyon. Do as much as we can in two weeks, then come back home. That's doable, right?" Dean sounds so excited. "But you'll mostly do the driving, because that's hot as hell."

"That sounds promising, Dean."

"We'll go to Portland, that's not too far away. We can go see those tiny houses."

"I love the tiny house movement."

"You're such a hippie, Cas." Dean kisses him, a peck on the lips.

"Um, San Francisco. Or Yosemite. We can go camping! Have sex at every national park.” Dean raises both eyebrows suggestively.

“I don't know, Dean, that sounds illegal.” Cas giggles.

“It's a bucket list item.”

Cas laughs, and he thinks his laugh even sound happier.

“We can go on hikes, I'll say _I love you Cas_ at every peak.”

Cas's laugh diminishes into a serious expression.

"You love me?"

"Something like that." Dean laughs, "What do you think?"

“I have no idea you'd be so cheesy, Dean.”

"Do you love me too or not? Jeez, at least return the sentiment."

There is a pause, and Cas confesses,  "All my life Dean. I love you all my life."

Dean rests his forehead against Castiel's, closes his eyes.

“And then, you can marry me in Vegas.”

Cas stiffens. Dean opens his eyes, looks at him squarely.

“Cas, will you marry me? If not in Vegas, anywhere, really. We can get married in a tiny house, for all I care. Just--will you marry me?”

Castiel gapes at Dean. Here is the love of his life, begging him to take what he had always wanted out of this life.

“Dean, does this mean you'll stay?” Dean's brows furrow.

“Cas, I'm sorry for everything I put you through." Dean kisses his cheeks, his eyes, his chin, his mouth. "But I'm here now, and I never planned on leaving you again. _I'm not leaving.”_

Cas almost sobs the way Dean says those words, like they're real, and they're true. Hope springs in Castiel's chest, blooming, blooming, taking up space, filling up a void. He is suddenly looking forward to days ahead, so that this life opens up to him like his own brand of heaven. And Dean is here. Dean is still here. _Dean is staying._

“Then yes, I'll take you up on that road trip, Dean.” He beams up at Dean.

“And?...”

“And we can come back home married.”

"Awesome."


End file.
